


When Bunce Isn't In Town

by nerdistheword



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, i dont have any excuses i just like when baz takes care of my boy simon, simon got beat up and baz takes care of him, the title sounds suggestive but its not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdistheword/pseuds/nerdistheword
Summary: Simon Snow is a moron. I know that. I’ve known it for years. Bunce tends to keep him in line when they’re together—stops him from getting into fights and falling in fucking manholes and things like that.But when she’s not around and Simon is left alone with his reckless thoughts and his fighter instincts…well, my boyfriend shows up at my doorstep at three am with a black eye and bloody nose and bruises all over his chest and back and arms.(Simon got beat up and ends up at Baz's)





	When Bunce Isn't In Town

Simon Snow is a moron. I know that. I’ve known it for years. Bunce tends to keep him in line when they’re together—stops him from getting into fights and falling in fucking manholes and things like that.  
But when she’s not around and Simon is left alone with his reckless thoughts and his fighter instincts…well, my boyfriend shows up at my doorstep at three am with a black eye and bloody nose and bruises all over his chest and back and arms.  
His clothes are dirty and torn, his hair is messy and smeared with dirt. His eyes are fiery, but a little tired, an sheepish.  
“You have a fancy dressing robe?” Is the first thing he says when I open the door, the moron.  
I’m in my custom dark red silk robe embroidered with my initials, TBP. A present from Fiona, though I think she had it made as a joke. It’s three am and there was a knock on my door, what was I supposed to do, just answer it in my pyjamas?  
“What the fuck happened to you, Snow?” I let him in, turning on a light to see him better. He looks like—  
“I got the shit beat out of me.” Snow says, slumping against my closed door with a pained groan.  
Yeah, that.  
I lead him into the kitchen, and he folds his wings to fit through the doorway with a wince. I wonder if his wings are hurt too.  
I can smell blood, not all of it his. The dried blood on his face and knuckles, maybe somewhere else. I can’t see any seeping through his clothes, a good sign I think.  
The smell doesn’t bother me too much. It’s a good thing I’ve already fed tonight.  
Luckily, my stepmother gifted me with a first aid kit because even though I’m a super-strong vampire, I could still stub my toe or nasty cut while I’m cooking. (Her words, not mine.)  
Snow sits down at the table while I dig the (unused until now) first aid kit from the cabinet.  
“What were you even doing to get the shit beat out of you at this time of night?” I turn around to face him with a disapproving scowl. “I finished hunting hours ago.”  
He shrugs. “I just went for a walk. These jerks in the park were aching to fight.”  
I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t mean you need to fight them, Snow. You’re lucky they didn’t have knives on them.”  
To my horror, Snow sheepishly opens his jacket to lift up his shirt and show me a small cut across his left side. Like someone tried to charge him with a blade but just nicked him.  
I hiss a curse. Of course he’d show up to my door at three am with a fucking knife wound. It’s still oozing blood, but it doesn’t look too deep. It will probably need stitches, just because of its length. I’m going to take care of that first. I clean the cut with water, smear it in antibiotic cream and then very carefully stitch him up with the aid of an internet search. It takes ten stitches to close the wound.  
Crowley, it’s like he needs constant supervision. Bunce left for America to visit her boyfriend only two days ago, and Simon already got stabbed.  
To his credit, Snow has a strong pain tolerance. He doesn’t even flinch as I fix him up. He doesn’t talk either, just let’s me help him.  
Once the stitches are done, I clean and bandage his split knuckles and give him an ice pack for his swollen eye.  
Then there’s his nose. It’s broken. All purple and bloody. I gently mop up the dried blood, trying to avoid looking at it for too long. You don’t leave a drink in front of an alcoholic.  
I need to snap it back into place. “This might hurt.” I warn him, hands hovering near his nose.  
He looks up at me then, his non-black eye squinting intentionally at me. There’s a small bruise on his temple, and a tiny cut on his forehead, just above his eyebrow.  
“How do you know so much about this stuff?”  
I raise a brow at him. “I learned basic first aid. In case I had to patch myself up after we got into fights at Watford.”  
Snow nods, his mind wandering somewhere else. I take the opportunity to abruptly snap his nose back in its right position. He takes in a sharp breath and winces.  
“Christ, Baz! Give me some more warning next time.”  
I roll my eyes again and go wash my hands of his blood. I feel better now that I can’t smell it as strongly.  
“You broke my nose once. Now we’re even.”  
He snorts, and winces again, gingerly touching his nose. Idiot.  
Snow leans back in his chair and shuts his good eye. “I did break your nose. But you tried to feed me to a chimera. And you pushed me down the stairs.”  
I roll my eyes and turn back around to look at him. “For the last time, Snow, I didn’t push you down the stairs. Not on purpose anyway.”  
He smiles, and looks down at his bandaged hands. “We fought a lot, didn’t we?”  
I stare at him, deadpan. “Yes, Snow. That’s kind of all we did for a long time.”  
His smile widens and he looks at me, blue eye sparkling. I suddenly feel more ridiculous than him, standing here in my dressing robe and pyjamas while he’s there in his filthy clothes with his stupidly received injuries. Injuries I just spent an hour taking care of.  
“Sometimes I can’t believe that it took me almost eight years to figure out I wanted to snog you instead of beat you into the ground.” He giggles a little. “Well, maybe I wanted to beat you into the ground a little.”  
I smirk at him. “Likewise.”  
Simon stands up and shuffles over in front of me. I love how he has to look up at me. He looks at me shyly and hunches his shoulders a bit, which is Simon body language for “give me affection.”  
I take both of his hands in mine and carefully kiss each of his fingers. He leans in close and rests his head on my shoulder.  
“You healed me.” Snow murmurs. I wrap my arms around him now and he takes the opportunity to press himself closer to me and sling his arms around my neck. I have to shift my balance to support him.  
“I didn’t heal you. I just made sure you didn’t bleed out.”  
“Mmm. Still.” He says. His face is hidden in the crook of my neck, I feel his breaths against my skin, getting slower. He yawns.  
I press a little kiss to his hair. He smells like outside. “Come on, Snow. You can sleep here tonight. Not like there’s much sleep to be had by now.”  
He nods sleepily and we walk to my bedroom. He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. I help him out of his bloody shirt and then he collapses into my bed like a downed tree.  
By the time I have my robe off, he’s already mostly asleep, sprawled over my bed like a fucking starfish. I have to move him over to lay down.  
Before he goes completely, he shoves one of my pillows under his head and peeks at me. He’s barely coherent, but I hear him. “I love you, Baz.”  
I don’t sleep much, I can’t stop looking at Simon. He’s sleeping like he didn’t just make me happier than I’ve been since I can remember.  
He’s snoring, his hair is dirty, and I love him more than anything.


End file.
